That evening, Qu Hua ate dinner at home.
Old Qu wasn’t home; if he had been, he would have believed his words had taken effect. He had at least that much confidence.
Mu Jing didn’t work that day. Before dinner, she specially made a dessert, having learned from Xiao Qin that her mother-in-law liked sweets. She had learned to make this dessert from her younger aunt, who had graduated from home economics and could make various Western desserts. This was the only dessert she had learned, making it for her family during New Year’s—her brother particularly loved it. When she asked her mother-in-law to try it, she found it delicious but mentioned that her son didn’t like sweets and wouldn’t get to enjoy Mu Jing’s culinary skills. Mu Jing smiled and said, “As long as you enjoy it.”
Mu Jing sat beside Qu Hua, somewhat uncomfortable knowing his purpose for coming home tonight. The more uncomfortable she felt, the more she tried to hide it, keeping a constant smile as she hurriedly served him dishes while barely eating herself. Her mother-in-law couldn’t bear to watch and said with a laugh, “Don’t fuss over him! You should eat more.” As a mother, she was naturally pleased to see her daughter-in-law caring so much for her son.
Mu Jing smiled sheepishly, “He hasn’t been eating well at the hospital these days.”
At first, Qu Hua was puzzled—even if Mu Jing meant to please him, she needn’t be so obvious about it. Now he understood—Mu Jing’s primary goal wasn’t to please him, but his parents. Part of her attention to him was for his parents to see. She wasn’t a patient; pleasing a doctor had limited value, but his parents held far more influence. When Mu Jing married him, she wasn’t attracted to him but to his family. Now it seemed her efforts were bearing fruit—in his parents’ eyes, she was a virtuous wife neglected by her newlywed husband.
With such a good wife, Qu Hua naturally couldn’t neglect her. In front of his mother, he affectionately patted Mu Jing’s hand, saying she had worked hard these days. Mu Jing jerked back as if shocked, then realizing her reaction was excessive, smiled and answered, “It’s no trouble.” His mother took it as shyness, and seeing the young couple’s good relationship, felt relieved. Though she had previously disapproved of Mu Jing’s family background, now that her son was married, she couldn’t hope for divorce. Moreover, she had witnessed Mu Jing’s many good qualities these days—if not for her family holding her back, she would have been quite suitable for her son.
Qu Hua’s pat had its effect; Mu Jing stopped serving him food and just lowered her head to eat.
This silence continued into their bedroom. She always had plenty to say to him in front of his parents, but alone, they immediately became distant.
“Do you have surgery scheduled tomorrow?”
“You already asked during dinner.”
Mu Jing usually had an excellent memory, but she had forgotten what was said at dinner—perhaps she truly had nothing to say. She covered it with a smile.
“Doesn’t your face hurt from smiling so much?” She had been smiling since dinner until now.
He smiled too, somewhat mockingly.
Mu Jing froze—had he discovered her pretense? But one shouldn’t strike a smiling face. Pretending not to understand his meaning, she said half-smiling, half-pouting, “You don’t care about anything else about me, yet you manage me in this small way. Now that I’m your wife, am I not allowed to smile? I’ll smile if I want to.”
Mu Jing had elegant features. Before marriage, she always wore blue, green, or grey clothes in the most common styles, dressing even more plainly than girls her age, constantly afraid people would associate her with capitalist children. After marriage, she became slightly bolder in her dress. The dress she wore now was from over ten years ago when she was still a young girl. Though years had passed, her figure hadn’t changed, and she could still wear clothes from many years ago.
She had beautiful teeth, looking better when smiling than not, and even though this smile was fake, there was now something alluring in her pout.
Qu Hua pulled up a chair and sat down, carefully studying his new wife. “You like Renoir, don’t you?”
Mu Jing put on an eager-to-learn expression, “You mentioned him last time—could you tell me more?” Their marriage wasn’t stable; they were never on the same side, and honesty was dangerous for her.
Qu Hua just stared at Mu Jing without speaking, as if trying to see through her entirely. He suddenly pulled her into his embrace. She played the role of the devoted wife so well that the old man believed it and came to the hospital to urge him home. The old man had no idea that Mu Jing most enjoyed playing the role of the virtuous wife left alone night after night.
Mu Jing was forced to sit on a human chair, with Qu Hua holding her in his arms, studying her expression from the side. He preferred her flustered look; her composed pretense wasn’t nearly as interesting as she was now. At first, Mu Jing struggled to stand, but Qu Hua’s hand pressed on her shoulder as he whispered in her ear, “I thought you liked being close to me like this.” Mu Jing’s shoulders were stiff. This close, she could smell Qu Hua’s shampoo—he had showered at the hospital before coming home. That act would inevitably happen tonight.
Since it was bound to happen, better sooner than later. Mu Jing asked if he wanted to shower now, offering to run his bath water.
Qu Hua said he had already showered at the hospital.
Mu Jing, blushing, said directly, “Then wait for me, I’ll take a shower.”
Before she left the bedroom, Qu Hua asked, “May I look at your books?” There was an open book on the desk—she wasn’t afraid of him seeing anything left out in the open.
“Of course.” Mu Jing, unnerved by his gaze, sat at the desk and reached behind her neck to undo her hair clip. Her hair fell in thick black waves, instantly covering her shoulders.
Qu Hua walked behind Mu Jing and ran his fingers through her hair. She had washed it last night, and it was still very smooth. Because her thick hair took so long to wash, and remarkably caused her no trouble, staying as fresh as just washed for two or three days, she rarely washed it daily. However, today she decided to wash it again. Washing and drying her hair would take some time—perhaps subconsciously, she wasn’t as determined as she appeared.
Mu Jing’s scalp tingled at his touch, like an electric current running through her whole body, making her feel numb all over. Trying to appear calm, she said, “I’ll go shower now.”
Mu Jing took her time in the shower. Although she had bathed yesterday, she felt unclean and kept washing repeatedly until her skin was raw. Finally, she resolved to go out. Being married, that act would happen sooner or later—there was no point in delaying.
When she returned to the room, Qu Hua was reading her books. He had asked her permission earlier, but she didn’t think he would be interested—they were her professional books, and she didn’t believe Qu Hua could understand them.
Hearing the door open, Qu Hua turned to look at her. Mu Jing kept her head down, drying her hair with a towel. At her pace, her hair wouldn’t be dry by morning.
Qu Hua went over to help her dry it. Water dripped from Mu Jing’s neck into her clothes. As Qu Hua lowered his head to dry her hair, they stood very close, almost touching. Mu Jing’s face was flushed from the steam, and she kept her head down without speaking, no longer able to force a smile. Qu Hua preferred her not talking, as every word had rung false. He sought her mouth while still drying her hair, and Mu Jing obligingly turned her face to kiss him, water droplets from her hair sliding onto his face. Mu Jing closed her eyes, feeling Qu Hua’s lips. The kiss was long, reminding her of her former boyfriend—they had never kissed this long, always rushing.
She lived in a dormitory, as did he, neither having private space, nor public places wasn’t convenient. When she went home during holidays, her mother set rules: if her boyfriend visited her room, the door couldn’t be locked, and she wasn’t allowed in his bedroom when visiting him. Her mother, who had broken free from family constraints for love, set just as many rules when it came to governing her children. Mu Jing hadn’t intended to be intimate with her boyfriend in her bedroom, but her mother’s restrictions provoked her rebellious spirit. With the record player playing, amid the music, Mu Jing asked her boyfriend to kiss her. He kissed cautiously, not daring to linger on her lips. She laughed at him for being a coward, not brave at all—in his family, they always knocked before entering rooms.
Her boyfriend explained he was thinking of their future; he needed to leave a good impression on his future in-laws. If he offended them and they wouldn’t let her marry him, what then? Mu Jing stroked his ear with her finger, asking what era he thought this was—did parental approval still matter? Stimulated by her touch, her boyfriend started to show some courage, but Mu Jing walked away to browse the records he had brought. She smiled while looking through them, saying who said anything about marrying you? Though she said this, in her heart she had chosen him, even loving his timidity—she didn’t like men making decisions for her. She was young then, always believing she could control her destiny.
Qu Hua’s kisses were completely different from her ex-boyfriend’s—his were undeniable, constantly reminding Mu Jing that he dominated this relationship. This aroused her competitive spirit; being passive in other things was one thing, but being passive in this felt like she was being bought. Qu Hua was handsome; being with him wasn’t a loss—she was sleeping with him, not the other way around. With this strange pride, she wrapped her arms around Qu Hua’s neck and licked his slightly dry lips. Qu Hua parted her teeth, and she immediately offered her tongue. While responding to him, she undid his belt, as if desperately wanting him. She deliberately acted experienced, though a woman’s pre-marital experience was a major stain in this era.
However, Mu Jing’s actions couldn’t exceed her knowledge; her theoretical experience only went so far. Fortunately, she had aroused Qu Hua’s passion, and everything after that required no initiative from her.
Lying on the bed, she reached to turn off the light, guessing her face wasn’t pretty now. While she didn’t want to be like his former girlfriend, she had already gone this far—letting him discover he had chosen wrong would be too costly now.
But Qu Hua stopped her.
He liked observing her reactions in the light—her fingers tightly gripping the sheets, mouth slightly open as if yearning for kisses. Even the strongest self-control couldn’t fake these reactions, and her genuine responses excited him. He even slowed his movements to watch her expressions.
Mu Jing insisted on turning off the light, “Like this, I feel like I’m on your operating table being examined.”
“Then you don’t understand me.”
If a lead surgeon had enough spare attention in the operating room to notice a patient’s height, build, or facial expressions, he would have too much energy—he was far from reaching that level.
On the operating table, he had seen countless patients unclothed, but that was just work. Some patients needing brain surgery would ask why they needed to remove all their clothes when only their head had problems—female patients asked this more often. Qu Hua left such questions for nurses to explain. After doing so many surgeries, he saw no difference between men and women. He never quite understood why, being so ill, they still had the mindset to worry about such things.
It wasn’t his responsibility if patients had such concerns, but if Mu Jing had the spare attention to think about this, he as a husband would have failed.
He had to give his full effort.
Soon, Mu Jing had no spare thoughts for such concerns. She temporarily forgot her situation, having no energy to think of anything else except how to handle her husband. Rarely in these years had there been such a moment—before, even her dreams were preoccupied with worrying about the future, but now her mind had no space for such thoughts. Her hands desperately needed something to hold onto, and finally, she hooked them around Qu Hua’s neck.
When it ended, Mu Jing kept her arms around Qu Hua’s neck. Much later, she withdrew them, her face deeply flushed, her entire body tinged red.
The curtains were half-drawn, and Mu Jing could finally briefly see the moon outside. She thought about how her parents and siblings were looking at the same moon.
This time, Qu Hua’s kisses were much gentler than before. Mu Jing closed her eyes, responding to his kisses.
His gentleness stirred her memories. She remembered her first kiss—her boyfriend had been so careful, trembling even as their lips touched. She could hear his heartbeat; he was so nervous that she ended up not being nervous at all. Although he later backed away, the memory was still pleasant. She had been cherished then, not needing to please anyone.
The second time, Qu Hua said they would eventually want children anyway, and having them wouldn’t be bad. Mu Jing thought he just found protection troublesome, but it was a perfect reason—he was thirty and should have children, and a child would strengthen her position in the family. Yet despite these advantages, she didn’t want one. Lying in Qu Hua’s arms, she told him, “I don’t want children so early, having you is enough.”
Mu Jing spoke with seeming sincerity, and Qu Hua was willing to believe it was true.